


Warm Hands

by nazyalenskyism



Series: Grishaverse Collection [1]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, angst + soft, just me trying out some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazyalenskyism/pseuds/nazyalenskyism
Summary: The one time Nikolai's plan doesn't work out in anyone's favour.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Grishaverse Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959739
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Warm Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wafflesandkruge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandkruge/gifts).



> This is based on the fifth day's prompt from wafflesandkruge on tumblr's Angstober/Softober prompt list using 'Hands' & 'Rage'.

His hands clenched at his sides and his knee bounced as Genya confirmed the final details for the wedding tomorrow. This had been his plan, he’d known of the consequences, so why was he finding it so hard to go through with this all? He had charmed Ehri well enough, he had satiated the people, secured Ravka’s position, would deal with their prisoner and now would complete their alliance with Shu Han through his wedding. If everything was going according to plan, why was he finding it so difficult to breathe? 

Under the table, he felt a hand gently press down on his knee, warm fingers signaling him to stop. He dared a glance to his side and saw Zoya, her eyes sad, focused on Genya while she tried to calm his nerves. Her smooth fingers lightly brushed his hand and he had to suppress a shudder. He couldn’t hear anything Genya was saying now, only the sound of blood roaring in his ears. His movements halted. He could feel his skin flaming wherever her hand touched. She slipped her hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze every few moments, staring pointedly in Genya’s direction. He forced his head up, he had to pay attention even if every bone his body rebelled against it. 

Finally the meeting concluded and everyone cleared out of the war room, Genya shooting both of them a sympathetic look as she shut the door behind her. Nikolai felt his shoulders drop the second the lock fell into place. Everything was crashing down onto him, and he didn’t know how much more of it he could take. 

He heard Zoya whisper, “it’s going to be okay Nikolai.” No, it wasn’t, but he appreciated her lying to him, he knew how much she hated to do it. He felt himself get pulled closer, her hands moving from his up to his face, grabbing it and forcing it towards her. “You have a plan Nikolai, you always do. And if you don’t have one, you’ll have thought of a wild one when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

“And what if this is the plan?” What if there is nothing but this? What if the plan is to marry Ehri, have an heir, and to die an old king, while you watch over my domain?” She swallowed quietly, her fingers still pressed to his cheeks, “then that’s all it will be, Nikolai.” They stood like that for a moment, silence enveloping them, the type of silence they wouldn’t be able to afford after tomorrow. He let his forehead rest against hers, pulling her close by the waist. “Nikolai, we can’t do this,” her voice was the gentlest he’d ever heard, and for some reason, it affected him more than her words. He wouldn’t do it, it wasn’t in his nature, but he wanted just a moment to pretend, to live in what could have been. His hands were tangled in her hair, hers starting blazes wherever they touched him as she ran them down his sides. It was all hands, anger, pain, and comfort, it was everything about a kiss, but without a kiss itself. It was a burning fire, trying it’s best to warm two brittle hearts.

He stood there, with Zoya in his arms, her brilliant eyes narrowed into a glare, trained on him and only him. “I hate you.” The venom in her tone was biting, the terrifying storm witch cutting her enemies to dust with a single sentence.

“I know,” he said softly, and he did.

“I hate you,” she repeated, but he could hear the tremble in her voice this time

“I know.” He could feel his own chest lock, each breath sticking in his chest.

She was shaking against him, “I hate you,” her face fell as she leaned against him, letting him fully embrace her. Her cheek rested against his collar and he could feel the anger radiating off of her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair to her, but it was his fault and his fault alone.


End file.
